


You say we can’t be perfect

by estei



Category: Bandom, Panic At The Disco
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-11
Updated: 2012-02-11
Packaged: 2017-10-30 22:44:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/337015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/estei/pseuds/estei
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Werewolf AU! When it comes to relationships Brendon thought that the hardest part was getting the guy. Written for bandomstuffsit 2011.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You say we can’t be perfect

**Author's Note:**

> This would not have been possible without the help of S and T, but even with their insights and encouragement I just didn’t give myself enough time to write the story I wanted here. This is basically the outline of that story, which I am still working on and hope to post in the new year – it comes with 100% more werewolves!

Brendon doesn’t know the boy in the pink t-shirt, but he wants to. He sees him at the library, often by himself with a stack of books and white earbuds in his ears and totally unapproachable, and he sees him in the café on campus, in the cultural studies department, in the bookstore, and always with a bunch of friends and laughing and smiling and still totally unapproachable. But Brendon has an in.

“Sarah,” he smiles his best smile as he drops into the seat across from Sarah. They hadn’t planned to meet for lunch, but he spotted her as soon as he’d walked in to the cafeteria. She looks mostly unimpressed, but Brendon suspects that has more to do with the salad she’s jabbing with a plastic fork.

“I forgot my lunch. Why? I had delicious leftover curry, already in a Tupperware dish, and I left it on the counter and probably Breezy ate it for breakfast, that jerk and the only thing remotely edible in this stupid cafeteria is the damn salad bar. I’m too hungry for salad, Brendon!” Sarah emphasizes this statement with a particularly violent stab into her plate, skewering a grape tomato and sending tomato juice across the bridge of Brendon’s nose. “Um…”

“Yeah, no, totally okay,” Brendon knows that Sarah gets stressed out at this point in the semester and so he got hit with a little tomato juice? No big, especially since he can see the corners of her mouth twitching up into a smile. Plus, a werewolf eating salad does seem cause for a freak out.

“Goddamn salad bar, I want it to die.” A tray drops down next to Brendon and he jumps a little, he’s wiping tomato guts off his glasses with a napkin, but he can see well enough to recognize the boy in the pink t-shirt, who is now sitting directly beside him.

“Right?” Sarah points at the newcomer with her fork. “See, Spencer knows what I’m saying here.”

“Um,” Brendon slides his glasses back on, and he doesn’t care that he left a fingertip smudge on the right lens because Spencer, Spencer, is sitting right there.

“Oh yeah, sorry, Spencer, this is my roommate Brendon. Brendon, this is Spencer, my fellow cultural studies major and salad hater.” Sarah is smirking a little, and it’s too much to hope that she didn’t notice how flustered Brendon suddenly got. He came to Sarah hoping she would know Spencer’s name and a little bit of gossip, so she could help brainstorm ways he could conspire to meet him… he was not expecting success this early.

“Hey Brendon,” Spencer twists a little in his seat and leans an elbow on the table. “Do you also have strong opinions about salad bars?”

“Careful,” Sarah calls, “There is a right and wrong answer,” she waggles her eyebrows and Spencer does this kind of giggle under his breath and Brendon feels the nerves drain right out of him. Spencer and Sarah obviously do nerd things together; he really has nothing to worry about.

Even after a two hour lunch spent mostly in the kind of hysterics that draws raised eyebrows from the groups around them, Brendon doesn’t really expect to become friends with Spencer so quickly, but apparently Spencer decided it would be so, and Brendon learns quickly that when Spencer makes a decision it’s pretty much going to happen. Brendon gets waved over to his table of books at the library, introduced to Spencer’s friends at the café, and sometimes when he’s walking to class he’ll find Spencer suddenly alongside him, chatting until their paths diverge again. Brendon had a crush before, based solely on Spencer’s soft hair and blue eyes and the freckles on his pointy, little nose, but now that he knows how smart and funny and capable Spencer is and he just wants this person around him all the time.

“So, you’re coming over for movie club tonight, right?” Spencer says, and Brendon knew he was coming, could hear him, smell him, even from around the corner, but admitting that would probably be weird, so he fakes a little jump.

“Jesus, we should put a bell on you,” he gripes, and almost forgets the question Spencer asked in the first place. “Um, I don’t know, was I invited?”

“What?” Spencer scowls, and it should not be cute, but Brendon almost can’t resist the urge to pinch his cheeks. Almost. “Yes, I told you last week.”

And Brendon remembers that conversation, but it had really been between Spencer and his friends, Jon, Ryan and Z, and the invitation had seemed casual, maybe not even really legitimate. But maybe that was just Ryan’s tone, and maybe the pinched expression on Jon’s face had meant something different. Maybe Brendon’s just nervous because he’s never been to Spencer’s apartment before.

“Oh, right,” Brendon laughs, a little too loud. “Yeah, okay.”

“Great,” Spencer smiles, and Brendon almost trips over his feet. “If you’re there it’s one more vote against whatever Ryan and Z try to force on us. Last time it was a German movie about clowns. Please Brendon, protect me from the clowns.”

“I will,” Brendon says, and Spencer’s joking. He probably thinks Brendon couldn’t protect him from a preschooler, but Brendon means it. He would stand between Spencer and any threat, though maybe not a clown actually, because clowns are a little creepy, and probably evil. “So,” Brendon shakes his head a little, he prefers to stay away from those kinds of thoughts around Spencer, “What are you doing down here, anyway?” It’s actually a good question. The basement of the humanities building is a warren of rehearsal spaces for the music students and a handful of meeting rooms.

“It’s the worst, my film studies tutorial got booted from our usual room because the werewolf society needed the AV equipment in there and the only other available room was down here. I’m pretty sure it’s the one with the exposed pipes and the weird smell.” Spencer says, sounding aggrieved.

“Wow, jerks,” Brendon says. This is kind of the perfect opening for the whole “Hey, guess what, I’m a werewolf!” talk, but Spencer sounds pissed, like he might be pissed at the werewolf society, and they’ve never really talked about it and Brendon has no idea how Spencer will react. He doesn’t seem like he’d be a dick about it, in fact, considering Spencer’s courses it seems he feels very strongly about equality across the board, but then maybe it’s a red flag that he hasn’t mentioned werewolves, considering how upfront he is about other groups.

“Yeah,” Spencer sighs, interrupting Brendon’s silent freak out. “Well, I gotta run, but remember, bring snacks. And no clowns!” Spencer’s laughing as he walks off, turning to point a finger at Brendon, and Brendon waves back. Yeah, it just isn’t the right time.

//

But then, the right time never seems to come along. It’s something Brendon struggles with every time he meets someone new. He’s never really gotten the hang of ‘when is too soon and when is too late’ where personal revelations are involved in friendships and relationships, let alone how to actually bring it up. Usually he’s the type to blurt out everything when asking to borrow a pen at the beginning of a lecture, so he’s not actually familiar with being in the situation of keeping secrets. In this case, Brendon knows that he’s terrified of scaring Spencer away, this amazing new person who seemed to actually like Brendon right from the start.

Brendon tells himself it isn’t really a problem, and it’s easy to believe that until Dallon decides to intervene.

“Look, I’m going to put this in terms you can understand and channel some King Triton right now. He’s a human, you’re a werewolf. Oh wait, no, he’s a human who doesn’t know you’re a werewolf.” Dallon looks serious and little mad and Brendon feels like the worst person in the world. “Spencer’s really cool and it’s pretty shitty watching you actively lie to him.”

“I never said-“

“Lies of omission count, too, dude,” Ian slings an arm over Brendon’s shoulder as he collapses next to him on the couch.

“What is this, an intervention?” Brendon shrugs out from under Ian’s arm and tries to shift away from his packmate. Unfortunately, the sagging couch cushions work against him and he ends up practically snuggling in Ian’s lap.

“Nah, more like bad cop, good cop,” Ian says. “Except like if the good cop was Ben Stiller and the bad cop was Rose from Golden Girls.”

“Ian, this is not what we discussed,” Dallon’s eyebrows draw together in a frown, and Brendon almost feels a little bad for him.

“There wasn’t really a discussion at all, man. You just came into my room and unplugged my XBOX with no warning and said we needed to deal with this. You should be grateful that I’m here at all and not filling your drawers with shaving cream.”

“I said I was sorry about that,” Dallon says. “And we can discuss it later.”

“Yeah, okay,” Ian shimmies a little on the couch, and the gravitational pull of the couch cushions recedes, allowing Brendon to lean further back against the armrest. “B, you gotta tell him. And you should probably stop growling at his friends.”  
Brendon flushes at that. It had been once, okay, maybe twice, but someone else had been cuddling with Spencer on the lounge chairs in the library and that was clearly unacceptable, because those lounge chairs were where Brendon and Spencer studied together and they had very special meaning and… yeah, okay. It was a little creepy, and he totally should not do it again.

“Brendon,” Dallon is aghast, “You growled at his friends? Don’t fall into the controlling alpha stereotype-”

“Please, please tell me we’re not going to revisit your anxieties about being an abusive werewolf boyfriend again.” Ian moans, throwing a hand up over his eyes. Dallon is going red in the face, and Brendon doesn’t want to talk about how neurotic Dallon had been when he first started dating Breezy, either. It’s suddenly clear to Brendon why Sarah and Breezy are absent from this conversation.

“Look, you guys, I get it. I should have told him and now it’s going to be really weird and he’ll probably hate me for lying.”

“Oh geez,” Dallon rolls his eyes, and Brendon’s at least relieved to see him switching gears, enough that he doesn’t really mind the eye rolling. “He’s not going to hate you. It’s just going to be awkward. Speaking of awkward, while you’re being honest you should probably mention your giant crush, too.”

“Rose is right, dude,” Ian nods. “It’s getting kind of embarrassing, watching you.”

“Okay, I think that’s enough family time for today,” Brendon braces himself and manages to lurch upwards into a standing position. Dallon and Ian tip their faces up to him expectantly.

“So you’ll tell him?” Dallon says.

“Yeah,” Brendon sighs.

“Hey,” Ian grabs onto his wrist, all humor gone from his expression. “We’re here for you, B. No matter what. Okay?”

“Yeah,” Brendon says again, because he does know.

Brendon’s pack is an unconventional one and sometimes he can’t believe that he found them. Leaving his family, his pack, in Las Vegas is the hardest thing he’s ever done and he still shies away from thinking about his first year in Chicago, so fucking lonely and scared. Dallon came first, then Sarah and Breezy and Ian, all loners and misfits and amazing and strong. Brendon loves them, his brothers and sisters, and their part of the reason Brendon is so reluctant to tell Spencer, because what if Spencer can’t accept them, doesn’t like them?

//

Brendon probably puts too much thought into where to have THE TALK with Spencer, but he wants to make sure that there’s enough privacy for the subject matter but that it’s public enough that Spencer won’t feel hemmed in. The café four blocks from campus was probably not the best choice he could have made, considering Spencer’s very strong opinions about coffee, but no one they know goes there and the back corner by the stack of dog eared magazines is always empty.

Sure enough, Spencer is scowling just a little when he slings his backpack on the floor and collapses into the seat opposite Brendon, sloshing coffee over the rim of the chipped mug and onto his fingers.

“Ugh, fuck,” Spencer says as he sets the cup down and promptly licks the coffee from his hand. “Why are we here, Brendon?”

“Um,” Brendon’s flustered, distracted by Spencer’s tongue and so nervous, and his knee is bouncing and he isn’t really surprised when he knocks his knee into the table, making it rock back and forth and spill even more coffee. “Oh my god, oh shit, I’m sorry,” he can’t stop babbling, even when Spencer just laughs and starts patting at the mess with a handful of napkins.

“You’re just saving me from having to drink the whole cup. I knew I should have just gotten a tea, but I’m an idiot, you know?” Spencer smiles and pushes the coffee stained napkins to the side and he’s so pretty, Brendon just really, really wants to smell his neck… wait, smell his neck?

“Oh my god,” Brendon knows that Spencer can’t read his mind, which is so good, because he’s such a freak.

“Hey, what’s going on?” Spencer reaches out and taps his fingertips against Brendon’s wrist, soft and quick and Brendon actually feels himself settle at the contact. Spencer’s wearing a soft hoodie zipped up under his chin and his hair is disheveled like it always is when he oversleeps and he smells like fabric softener and the spicy handmade soap he buys at the health food store.

“I need to tell you something, something I should have told you a long time ago,” Brendon has to look away, Spencer’s mouth is turning down and he’s leaning forward, serious, concerned, and Brendon has been lying to him for months.

“Okay,” Spencer says softly, and he doesn’t reach out again or say anything else, but he doesn’t move away either and Brendon laughs, high pitched and sharp.

“So, you know how I live with a bunch of really cool people, with Ian and Sarah and Dallon and Breezy, and we’re really close, you know? Like, they’re really important to me.”

“Yeah,” Spencer says, drawing out the word, and he looks confused now.

“They’re really important to me,” Brendon says again, “Like my family, except more than that,” he pauses to take a breath and he almost loses his nerve when he sees the pinched look on Spencer’s face. “We’re a pack, like, a werewolf pack.”

“Is that… it?” Spencer asks.

“Um, I’m a werewolf.” Brendon says, and now Spencer looks nervous and kind of shifty and Brendon is just really, really confused.

“Okay, well, don’t be mad, but I kind of already knew. About the werewolf thing.” Spencer says quickly, jumbling his words together in a way he never does.

“You knew?” Brendon is having difficulty processing this information. Werewolves aren’t uncommon, there’s even a social club on campus, but Brendon and the others, his pack, they try to stay out of that stuff. Wolves who leave their packs, as they all did, can be regarded with suspicion.

“Sarah and I have that seminar together, on gender equality, and she talked about why she left Detroit, and about her pack, and I just, I don’t know. It seemed really obvious that you guys were a pack, after that. I’m sorry I didn’t say anything, I just thought that it was your place to tell me, when you were ready.” Spencer says. “Was I wrong?”

“No,” Brendon swallows. He thinks about how nervous he’s been, but he knows that Spencer was right. He would have panicked, and shut down their friendship without risking finding out what Spencer thought about it, about him. “So, what do you think about that?”

“I don’t know, Brendon. I don’t really think of it, you know? Like, you’re my friend, and I really like you, and it’s just another part of you.” Spencer shrugs. “I’m way more concerned about your obsession with emulating Robyn’s dance moves, to be honest.”

“That was one time, and that song is very catchy and excuse me if I like to dance when I’m shelving books in the library, okay,” Brendon points a finger across the table because he will not be made fun of about weird obsessions by the guy who has a My Little Pony sticker on his laptop. Spencer laughs, and Brendon laughs, too, until he remembers the expression on Spencer’s face mere minutes ago. “Wait, wait, so if you knew, why did you look so upset when I was talking about my pack?”

Spencer looks uncomfortable, shifting in his chair and for the first time, refusing to make eye contact.

“What? No, I didn’t,” he says.

“Spencer, this is the table of truth. Be honest,” Brendon says, and he can’t believe how brave he’s feeling, how confident he is that whatever Spencer says it isn’t going to be bad.

“Fine, I thought you were going to say you’re in a big poly relationship with your roommates. Your pack.” Spencer is blushing, he’s blushing and this is officially the best conversation ever, even if Spencer thought he was in an incesty relationship with his packmates, which is so weird Brendon can’t even make a joke about it.

“There’s something else I should tell you,” Brendon admits, and he reaches across the table to take Spencer’s hand in his, and his palm is probably really sweaty, but Spencer should know these things about him, he thinks. He sometimes, okay maybe always, sweats a lot. This will hopefully be information that will be pertinent to Spencer very soon. “I have a really big crush on you,” he says.

“Oh,” Spencer says, and he’s looking down at the table, where Brendon’s hand is holding his, and he ducks his chin a little and he smiles that smile, the one that makes Brendon’s heart beat fast. “Oh.”

“Yeah. So what do you think about that, Spencer Smith?”

//

It turns out that dating Spencer is a million times better than being friends with Spencer. Kissing Spencer is kind of amazing, and cuddling and hand holding and getting to stick his cold hands under Spencer’s sweater when they come in from the cold is totally worth the pouty face he gets in return. Brendon has never been so happy, and he’s determined not to screw it up.

“Ryan’s cranky,” Spencer says as they’re finally, finally leaving campus for the day. The promise of hot chocolate and quality couch time with Spencer is the only thing keeping Brendon upright at this point.

“Okay?” Brendon obviously can’t feel Spencer’s skin against his through their mittens, but he grabs Spencer’s hand anyway, grinning when Spencer ducks his chin with a smile.

“Yeah. Would it be okay if we went to your place instead?” Spencer sounds casual, but it’s the fake casual that Brendon’s already started to recognize and he wishes he could stop the way he tenses up. Brendon’s packmates really like Spencer, and Spencer and Sarah are total nerd buddies with weird inside jokes, but it’s always a little weird when Spencer’s over, in their house. They’re also so comfortable at home, falling into pack behavior and tousling and touching and having Spencer in the middle of that makes Brendon feel strange and uncomfortable. But he knows they can’t keep hanging out in Spencer’s tiny apartment, where Ryan and Z are practically stacked on top of them, especially not if Ryan is in a mood. It’s funny, Brendon’s the werewolf, but sometimes he gets the feeling that Ryan might eat him. In a bad way.

“Dallon and Breezy are kind of fighting right now,” Brendon says, and he can’t believe he’s saying this, but Spencer nods and the tension leaves his frame.

“Yeah, okay, Ryan can just get over himself,” Spencer says and his tone is perfectly even and a little chipper and Brendon feels like the worst person on earth.

Of course, he’s really regretting his decision when they actually get to Spencer’s place and it turns out that “cranky” was a huge understatement. Z is making apologetic faces but Ryan’s mood is hard to escape and Spencer, normally so adept at handling any situation, just keeps snapping at his friend until Brendon thinks they might actually come to blows. His relaxing evening with his boyfriend is turning into anything but, and Brendon’s sitting on the couch, feeling awkward and trying to figure out how he can get out of this situation without hurting Spencer’s feelings.

“Jon’s coming over,” Z announces as she returns from a suspiciously long trip to the kitchen for drinks. She sets a mug of tea on the coffee table in front of Brendon, and he reaches for it, burning his fingers on the hot ceramic.

“Oh great, more people crammed in here,” Ryan says from down the hall.

“Feel free to close your door,” Spencer calls back, and he smiles when Brendon leans their shoulders together, but it’s gone again too soon.

“I pay rent here,” Ryan yells, “I don’t have to sequester myself in my room-“

“Jon’s bringing weed,” Z says, and considering that Ryan doesn’t object to the interruption or continue yelling Brendon can only assume this is good news. “He’ll be fine once we get a joint going,” Z says to Brendon, and he nods back. He doesn’t have a problem with drugs, in theory; he just doesn’t do them, none of his packmates do. Spencer, attuned as always to Brendon’s reactions, nudges his arm.

“Is that okay? We can just hang out in my room,” he says, and while that offer is very tempting, Brendon thinks that he would die if Ryan were to yell about them being too loud again.

“I don’t smoke, but it doesn’t bother me.” Brendon shrugs, he wants to ask if Spencer smokes up, but he’ll probably find out soon enough.

Spencer doesn’t smoke up, and Brendon doesn’t know why he finds that so relieving, because maybe Spencer would if Brendon wasn’t there, but it means something when he waves off Jon’s hand when he offers the joint, that Spencer made sure they were sitting a bit apart from the rest, curled together on the oversized arm chair. Z keeps teasing them, in a kind way, and even Ryan seems to have softened, laughing when Spencer blushes. Jon, who always struck Brendon as the most laid back of the group, is the one who seems off.

“So now you don’t smoke up with us?” Jon says, and it’s a little pointed, though Spencer doesn’t seem to notice. His head is on Brendon’s shoulder, eyes at half mast as Brendon scratches his fingertips against Spencer’s scalp.

“I don’t always smoke up with you potheads,” Spencer says, and he’s not even really looking at Jon.

“Yeah,” Jon says, and his smile is fierce, a little mean, and it makes Brendon want to stand between them. “We’re potheads.”

“Ryan is,” Z says, and when Brendon looks over in their direction, Ryan is looking back and he holds Brendon’s gaze for a few moments before jostling Z with his elbow.

“You should talk,” he chides.

“I’m tired, Bren,” Spencer murmurs, nuzzling a little against Brendon’s neck. “You wanna stay over?”

Brendon tightens his arms around the sleepy pile of Spencer, and he doesn’t care about anyone else in the room then, because he gets Spencer, and that’s enough.

//

The problem is that Brendon is not really experienced when it comes to relationships. With everything that came with moving to Chicago, the music program, settling in with his pack, there hasn’t been a lot of time for that sort of thing and until Spencer Brendon had never made it past the fourth date. When it comes to relationships Brendon thought that the hardest part was getting the guy.

Not so, apparently.

It’s been a shitty day with snappy professors and idiot freshmen at his tutorials and he really just wants a hug from his boyfriend except his boyfriend is late. Sitting on the stairs of the social sciences building is not doing much for Brendon’s mood, not when the air is cool and the sun is setting and the sandwich he had for lunch seems like it happened days ago. Shoulders hunched up around his ears Brendon turns his phone on and off, as much checking for a text message from Spencer as to stave off the boredom. Another fifteen minutes pass before he hears Spencer’s footfalls come around the corner, recognizing the slap of messenger bag on thigh as Spencer hurries towards him.

“Bren, I’m so sorry, I got caught up-“ Spencer’s cheeks are rosy from the cold and for a second Brendon doesn’t even care that he’s been waiting almost half an hour. He jumps to his feet, ignoring the popping in his knees, and throws his arms around the bulk of Spencer’s wool coat, pressing his nose into the curve of Spencer’s neck and grinning at the indignant squawk he elicits. The comfort lasts as long as it takes from Brendon to inhale once, and when he steps back abruptly Spencer overbalances and almost topples over. “What-“

“I have to go,” Brendon says, and he’s terrified of how much he wants to push Spencer when he takes a step closer, push him away, hard.

“I know I’m really late, but I-“ Spencer tries to catch Brendon’s sleeve as he walks by, but Brendon ducks to the side.

“Its fine, whatever, Spencer, just, I have to go. I have a meeting,” Brendon says and he’s walking fast but Spencer has those long legs and it’s easy for him to catch up.

“You’re mad, I get it, just let me explain,” Spencer doesn’t try to touch Brendon again, but his left hand is hovering near Brendon’s elbow. Brendon doesn’t know how to communicate that Spencer needs to leave without sounding like a psycho, so he just walks faster. They probably look absurd, speedwalking across the courtyard. “Would you just talk to me? What the hell is going on? You were fine two seconds ago and-”

“Two seconds ago I didn’t know you smell like you spent the afternoon inside of Jon’s coat,” Brendon snaps, unable to bite back his anger any longer. Spencer does grab his elbow now, jerks them both to a halt.

“Are you kidding me with this shit, Brendon? I thought we were done with this,” Spencer says, and he doesn’t look apologetic anymore, he looks furious.

“Why were you late?” Brendon counters.

“I was in special collections and I lost track of time,” Spencer says. “Jon was there, too. Jesus. Jon is my friend and we’re in the same program. Yeah, we spend time together.”

“Gee, sorry I’m a little pissed that you blew me off to hang out with your ex,” Brendon says.

“Holy fuck,” Spencer spits out, “When are you going to get over that? We dated for a week. Three years ago. The only person who cares about that is you.”

“I don’t want to talk about this right now,” Brendon says. He doesn’t need another round of Spencer trying to make him feel like an irrational asshole. After five months of the same argument it couldn’t be clearer that Spencer isn’t ever going to really listen to his side of the issue, and Brendon knows that he’s starting to overreact, but he honestly doesn’t know how to deal with his reaction anymore when he smells Jon’s scent all over Spencer’s skin. Spencer either doesn’t see it or wants to pretend that Jon isn’t flirting with him every time they all hang out together, but it couldn’t be more obvious to Brendon.

“Well, that suits me,” Spencer says, and walks away.

“I don’t know,” Brendon says later that week, when he’s curled up on the lumpy couch with Sarah’s arm around his shoulder and her quilt across their laps. “Maybe we should just break up. Maybe we already are, we haven’t talked in two days.”

“Have you tried to call him? Or text?” Sarah asks, scratching her fingertips across his scalp. Brendon sinks in closer and lets his eyes fall shut. It’s the most relaxed he’s been in days.

“No. I just keep thinking, what’s the point? He’s never been able to talk to me about this, and it just keeps getting worse. Like, I try to tell him how I feel but he won’t listen.” Brendon takes a deep breath, and is surprised at how it shudders through his chest. “He’s not even trying to see this from my perspective.”

Sarah doesn’t say anything for a long time and for a second Brendon thinks she might be gearing up to change the topic.

“Dallon and Breezy are really lucky, you know?” she says. “Breezy never has to worry about trying to explain the whole ‘I’m a werewolf’ thing, and neither does Dallon, because they get it. No one has to say anything. It’s hard, trying to explain this stuff to someone who doesn’t live it.”

“Yeah,” Brendon whispers.

“But if you don’t trust the person you’re with to handle it, well, you’re not really giving them a chance to prove themselves.” Sarah gives a gentle tug on Brendon’s hair. “Since you’ve known Spencer you’ve been afraid of letting him see that side of you, of us. When he’s here you’re always nervous that he’s going to see something other about us. It’s almost like you’ve been waiting for him to hurt us, to hurt you. Maybe Spencer sees this as another way you don’t trust him.”

“That’s not… I don’t,” Brendon shakes his head, pulls away from Sarah until he can turn to face her.

“He talks to me about it a lot. Not about you, specifically, but about werewolf stuff.” Sarah says, and Brendon can’t even parse how that makes him feel. He knows that this isn’t something they were doing behind his back, but it feels that way.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He says finally.

“You’ve been so touchy about this with Spencer from the very start, I was hoping you’d figure it out on your own, or Spencer would say something to make you see. B, he doesn’t, he just wants to know. If you’d tell him stuff, it might be different. He’s never treated me differently because of it-“

“It’s not the same, Sarah,” Brendon says. “You’re not dating him. You’re not in love with him.”

“No,” she says. “I’m not. And he’s not in love with me, either. But he loves you.”

“I really miss him,” Brendon says, so quiet he can barely hear his own voice. “I miss him a lot.”

Sarah doesn’t say anything then, just tugs Brendon back under her arm and holds him until the urge to cry has passed and they can hear their packmates stomping snow from their boots on the front porch.

Brendon is going to call Spencer, he just needs to work up the courage first. He talked to Sarah, and to Breezy, and then Ian said they were excluding him, and then Dallon pouted, so it was basically the entire household in a blanket fort in the living room eating ice cream. Whatever. They made some valid points, and Brendon definitely sees now how he held Spencer at arm’s length, and he’s not imagining the whole Jon issue, so it isn’t all his fault, probably.

The point is that he’s going to call, and he’s not hiding in his practice space on campus, he’s working, so it’s pretty unexpected when Ryan shows up.

“Oh my god, are you here to kill me?” Brendon says, which is probably weird, but it’s after ten o’clock and you need to know the door code to get into the basement at this time of day and Ryan has the look of a potential serial killer, Brendon has always thought that.

“I guess that depends on what you say next,” Ryan says, and Brendon can feel his eyes widening and he wonders if he could get behind the keyboard fast enough or restrain Ryan without breaking his arms because Spencer would probably be less likely to forgive him if that happened. “Jesus Christ, I’m not here to kill you, I came to tell you that you’re a moron, and also that you never did lend me that Ruth Brown vinyl.”

“Okay,” Brendon says. “That’s kind of reassuring.”

“It shouldn’t be. You hurt Spencer. In any other circumstance I would challenge you to a duel or something.” Ryan’s tone is matter of fact, but Brendon can practically smell the tension and anger rolling off him.

“Pistols at dawn?” He replies weakly. Ryan shrugs.

“Spencer’s not saying much about what happened, but I gather it has something to do with Jon.”

“That’s not all of it,” Brendon says, “But, part of it, yeah.”

“It’s not really my place to talk about it, you know? But Spencer won’t and I really advise against asking Jon, so the thing is that Jon still kind of has a thing for Spencer, even though he knows it’s never going to happen. They went out for a week, but honestly it was kind of a gesture from Spencer, but Jon is our friend and Spencer really cares about his feelings. Do you get what I’m saying here? It’s really complicated, and Spencer just doesn’t know how to handle it.” Ryan sighs. “Z and I don’t really help with that because they’re both our friends and we just want things to not be awkward.”

“I get that,” Brendon says.

“But this isn’t really a conversation for you and me to have. And I don’t care about what your deal is,” Ryan waves a hand and turns on his heel. “And don’t forget about that record!”

Brendon is a skilled negotiator, and by the next afternoon Ryan has the Ruth Brown record and Brendon has a promise that Ryan and Z will elsewhere for the evening. It will be perfect, if Spencer lets him into the building.

“Brendon,” Spencer’s voice is crackly through the intercom, and Brendon can’t remember the last time Spencer used his full name. “I have a paper due on Thursday. I’m kind of busy.”

“Please, Spence, just for a few minutes. I need to talk to you.” Brendon doesn’t know if his desperation is that audible or if Spencer does want to see him after all, but when the door buzzes he jumps for it and almost slams it into the opposite wall he opens it so quickly. He doesn’t bother waiting for the suspect elevator, instead he bounds up the stairs to the fifth floor. Spencer’s standing in the doorway, and he’s wearing his softest hoodie and navy pajama pants and he looks tired, and a little sad. It makes Brendon’s heart clench.

“Come in,” Spencer says, stepping back and holding the door open. “Ryan and Z are out, so.”

“I know,” Brendon says, probably a little too eagerly. Spencer frowns, not mad, just confused.

“You know. What, were you staking out the apartment?”

“No,” Brendon hesitates, maybe he shouldn’t be telling Spencer about his conversation with Ryan, then he remembers where secret keeping got him before, and continues. “Ryan came to talk to me yesterday. I told him he could borrow my Ruth Brown record if he wasn’t here when I came over.”

“Ryan came to talk to you,” Spencer says. He crosses his arms over his chest, and Brendon hates to see that defensive gesture used on him.

“He wasn’t the first person to tell me that I should talk to you. My roommates, my packmates, they said the same thing. And I wanted to, but I was scared, scared that I’d ruined everything,” Brendon says.

“You didn’t ruin everything, Bren,” Spencer says. “I could have, I should’ve called you, too.”

“We maybe haven’t been so great at communicating,” Brendon offers. “Sarah told me about your conversations.”

“Maybe we should sit down,” Spencer gestures at the futon behind him and takes a seat on the far corner, based on the nest of blankets and pillows and notes strewn around, it’s probably the same seat he was occupying when Brendon arrived. Brendon perches on the middle, not too close and not too far, sitting sideways so they’re face to face. “Sarah and I didn’t talk about you, I wouldn’t do that, we talked about her, really.”

“I kind of wondered,” Brendon admits.

“I mean, she’s my friend, and we talked about that stuff before I knew you, but later is was kind of about you, I just wanted to understand, and you didn’t really want to talk about it. I guess I should have tried harder.” Spencer shrugs, fingers twisting in the afghan across his lap. Brendon wants to reach out, but he knows Spencer won’t allow that, not yet.

“That probably wouldn’t have worked,” Brendon says. “I was too scared, I probably would have just started a fight.”

“Scared of what? When have I ever given you the impression that I would judge you, or just randomly change my mind about you,” Spencer says, voice rising in frustration. “You don’t trust me. Not with this, not with Jon,”

“Hey, just, stop, okay,” Brendon holds up his hands and fights to keep his voice level. “You’re right, about the werewolf stuff, but I didn’t see it that way. I didn’t think it was a trust thing, I just. When my family kicked me out it was because I was too different, and I just thought maybe the werewolf thing might be too different for you, so I pretended it wasn’t really there… That sounds really stupid, huh?” He looks away, there is every possibility he might cry, and focuses on the canvas above the TV instead, shades of dark grey with gold splatters at the top. Z painted it on the kitchen floor two months ago. Spencer and Brendon had been making dinner, stepping over her outstretched limbs and they’d all be laughing as she flicked paint from her brush, stars in the sky, she’d said, and it had taken days for Spencer to scrub the gold flecks from his neck.

“No, it doesn’t,” Spencer reaches out and tangles his fingers with Brendon’s and Brendon blinks against the stinging in his eyes. “I get that it’s hard for you to trust, Bren, but you need to give me the chance to prove myself to you at least.”

“Yeah,” Brendon says. “I can do that,”

“And I get why you were mad about the Jon thing,” Spencer says. “It’s just, he’s one of my best friends, and it really sucks that there’s this thing between us and I don’t know how to deal with it, I never have, and I don’t want to make it worse and hurt him but I don’t want to lose him as a friend, either, so I just pretend it’s not there. I don’t know how to make that better. I don’t want to stop being his friend.”

“That’s okay, we can figure it out,” Brendon doesn’t know if he believes that, entirely, but he wants to, he wants Spencer, and right now that’s enough for him.

“Yeah?” Spencer says, and he tugs on Brendon’s hand a little, pulling Brendon closer. Brendon is more than willing, shifting over until he’s almost in Spencer’s lap.

“I missed you so much,” Brendon says, lips brushing the curve of Spencer’s cheek. Spencer shudders a little under him, and turns his head until their mouths touch. “I love you,” he says, and Spencer’s reply is lost when Brendon deepens the kiss, but he knows the answer anyway.


End file.
